


Sick Nights

by writeyourheart



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Kit takes care of him, M/M, Sickfic, Ty gets sick, also the end of los did not happen, and very fluffy, its cute and gay, they all deserve HAPpInnEss, we disregard that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 14:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11488284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourheart/pseuds/writeyourheart
Summary: "Ty was different because of how he made Kit feel. The unknown, identifiability of it all was so luring, so addicting, and somewhat chaotic and scary. But there was no other feeling like it. No other person brought that feeling to Kit. And Kit didn’t want anybody else to, for he wanted part of him to belong to Ty, and to Ty only."Ty gets the flu, Kit takes care of him.





	Sick Nights

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request from an anon on my tumblr @tiberiusblacktorn ! Hope you enjoy!

Ty was displeased. He was disappointed, and angry, and somewhat annoyed at the quietness that lingered through the LA Institute, almost unnerving. He loved the quiet; the odd times when the world was drenched in tranquility rather than chaos, when no headphones were really necessary, when life offered him peace and beauty in the softening silence.

            Yet tonight, he wished he heard the familiar music of Mozart ring through his ears as it muffled away the clashing sounds of blades and weapons meeting the bodies of odd and uncomfortably looking demons. He wished for knives to fall from his hands, colliding with the outlandish forms he was fighting against. His own hands would be moving with the steady and smooth sound of the music as he thrashed around in the moonlight by the water, the constellations like lights above his head, Livvy and Kit at his side, the three of them, together, unstoppable.

            Though, instead, he laid still in his bed, stiff and yet still shaky; his hands twisting and moving in unidentifiable patterns on the bedsheets, his dark hair plastered to his head. His insides burned, and only seconds later his body would be overpowered by chills, an uncomfortable and sudden coldness replacing it.

            Runes were somewhat helpful, yet still, not enough to cure him from the flu that had been spreading through the Institute like wildfire. First it had been Tavvy, then Julian due to the fact that he was the one caring for his youngest brother, then soon after, it was Emma, and then Cristina, and Mark, and Dru, and Livvy, and now, inevitably, it was Ty’s turn.

            “Are you sure you don’t need me to stay?” Julian had asked, his steady hands placed a glass of water within Ty’s sweaty grip, then moved gently to place a hand on Ty’s forehead. The boy didn’t flinch at Julian’s touch, his hands were cool against the burning heat of his face. “You’re still boiling hot, Ty. I can stay, really. The others will all be there, and you know, Emma’s the best, I trust her more than anyone to keep the others safe-”

            “Jules,” Ty said impatiently, cutting him off. Julian spoke quickly, the words jumbling together in Ty’s head, seemingly unintelligible and making him even more sick than he already was to begin with. “It’s fine, you should go with the others. Besides, Dru insists on practicing, and I think she’ll want you to teach her over any of the others.”

            After much persistence, Dru had been allowed to go on a mission, as long as it was one with demons who weren’t particularly too lethal or too dangerous.

            Julian smiled, doubt and reluctance laced within it, but still, filled with genuine compassion. His fingers brushed away strands of damp hair from Ty’s forehead. “Alright. But I can’t leave you here sick and alone, somebody has to get things for you and it wouldn’t be fair to-”

            “I’ll stay,” Kit’s voice announced unexpectedly, almost overly confident as he leaned crookedly at the doorway, a blue t-shirt was half tucked into his slightly ripped gray jeans, his golden hair messy and tousled and wet. He had obviously just come out of the shower. “I just showered, so I’d rather not be covered in demon guts, though it most certainly is an absolutely appealing thought.”

            Ty’s eyebrows knotted together, confused at Kit’s contradicting statement. “How is that appealing?” he half coughed out, his lungs aching from within his body.

            Julian’s mouth opened to respond, but Kit quickly spoke before he did. “The battle, I mean,” Kit said quickly and sharply, his tone odd and pressing and somewhat unfamiliar. “The fighting sounds cool. But, you know, I guess it’s not really as cool if you and Livvy aren’t there.”

            “Livvy would be there.”

            “But you wouldn’t.”

            Julian cleared his throat in a seemingly forced manner, his hand through his Blackthorn curls. “Are you sure, Kit?”

            They seemed to share a glance, one that seemed as though it were fabricated so Ty wouldn’t understand what it meant. But Kit’s eyes rested on Julian’s too, passion and genuineness within them as he stared at Ty’s older brother. “I’m sure.”

            Julian’s eyes stayed on Kit, and Ty stared up at the two of them, both at the side of his bed now, their eyes fixed on each other. Ty couldn’t really understand what they were saying from their gazes, what story was being said without words, but Ty caught gentleness in Julian’s eyes, a gentleness that only he and his siblings and Emma ever saw. But there was question there too, suspicion hidden within his ocean coloured iris’, an almost threatening protection.

            “There’s plenty of food in the fridge, Tavvy’s already asleep, but if he wakes up all you have to do is read him the story on the shelf by his tent. There are cold cloths in the bathroom for Ty’s forehead, it’ll help the temperature, and make sure that _Iratze’s_ are drawn every now and then. If there is anything wrong, and I mean _anything_ wrong, then you have my number.” Kit was trying not to be overwhelmed at the sudden commands, but his insides stirred awkwardly. He nodded fiercely instead. “Do you understand?”

            “Yes,” Kit promised, and Ty coughed, heaving. Julian ruffled Ty’s hair once more, told him his last goodbyes, and left the two boys alone.

 

*****

 

            Kit had gone mad. He ran though the Institute with a fiery dedication, his hands occupied with wet cloths and water and food. Ty had claimed he wasn’t hungry, and though Kit knew he meant it, he also knew how food was necessary when one was sick.

            He opened Ty’s door in a swift motion, and found the boy in the same position he had been in once he left. His dark hair was damp, plastered to his forehead, his eyes dull and colourless, his hands playing with the covers that tangled over him, only a bit above his waist. He sported a black t-shirt with a small, white bird in the center of it, it’s wings close to its body.

            “I know you said you weren’t hungry but when people are sick they need to eat,” Kit assured, sitting by his bed with soup in his hands. “It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

            Ty gazed at him with question, his eyes traveling back and forth from him to the soup, yet never settling on direct eye contact.

            “What is it?” Ty asked, quiet and timid, sounding like a little child.

            “I think it’s chicken broth,” Kit elaborated, his unsure eyes divulged in the yellowish tint of the soup, gazing at it with a peculiar look in his blue eyes.

            Ty sighed. “I’m not eating it unless I know what it is.” Kit looked at him, and Ty’s eyes fell back onto the covers where hands shakily moved, clashing together at times. He seemed pale, paler than he usually did. His frame seemed more fragile too, his body skinnier and dark circles rested under his eyes.

            An odd protectiveness seemed to find him. The sight of Ty vulnerable and ill allowed something inside him to burn, brighten, a part of him that rarely seemed to visit, a part of him that would never make itself known.

            Slowly, Kit placed the spoon in his mouth, tasting the salty familiarity of a chicken broth. A sudden nostalgia flashed through him, the memory of being young and sick, and his father feeding soup to him.

            “Kit, if you don’t have the soup, the demons might take you before your flu does,” Johnny would insist, an intimidating intensity to his voice. And little Kit would oblige, the thought of demons finding him in his sleep overpowering the claims that originated from his sickness. The claims that promised how he was not hungry, though he hadn’t eaten in hours.

            “It’s chicken broth.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Yes, I’m sure.”

            “Are you _really_ sure?”

            “Yes, Ty, I’m really sure,” Kit assured. “So, eat it. Now that you know what it is.”

            “Well, technically, I didn’t taste it, so I wouldn’t really know,” Ty stated, his ill eyes teasing.

            “Stop trying to get out of this, Ty,” Kit almost yelled, his eyes glued onto where Ty’s would have been, if they weren’t darting around. “You need to get better! This’ll help.”

            _“I’m just not hungry_ ,” Ty groaned, clearly annoyed. He was stubborn, but the sight of him pale and sweaty and _so sick_ made Kit’s insides churn with anxiety and fear. Suddenly, Kit was stubborn, too.

            “When was the last time you ate?” Ty stilled for a second, his mind seemingly searching for an answer. Kit raised his eyebrows.

            “If you can’t remember, then you should probably eat.”

            “A few hours ago,” Ty replied sharply, his hands fiddling more aggressively with the bedsheets. Kit sighed, noticing the edge in Ty’s voice, the lie sounding so peculiar on his lips. Ty never really lied.

            “What did you eat?” Kit insisted, and Ty stilled once more, searching for an answer.

            “A sandwich.”

            “What kind of sandwich?”

            “I don’t know, why does it even matter!” At the sudden outburst, Ty coughed, his breathing was heavy and the noises that fell from his mouth were guttural and deep. Kit watched with wide eyes as the boy heaved, a hand on his chest as his body shook; the movement frightening and eerie.

            Kit placed the soup on the desk by Ty’s bed, his body falling from its seat on the edge of Ty’s bed to his knees. His hands clenched at Ty’s shoulders, fingers digging themselves into his skin, applying pressure. Ty’s breathing slowly steadied, and his body gently stopped shaking, settling back into the depths of his bed when his coughing fits finally stopped.

            “Are you alright?” Kit’s hands stayed on his shoulders, though his fingers were not as hard on his skin. They rested like feathers instead, soft and cautious, as if Ty were the most delicate thing in the world.

            Ty nodded, barely visible, his eyelids were shut, and his body was boiling hot. Carefully, Kit removed his hands from Ty’s shoulders, reaching for the cloth that rested in a cool bowl of water on Ty’s desk, next to the chicken broth. At the loss of contact, Ty stirred uncomfortably, a small whimper escaping his lips, his eyes almost opening until Kit dropped the cloth on his forehead smoothly. Ty sighed at the contact, and Kit watched as he melted further into his bed, his body relaxing.

            “Thanks,” Ty whispered, his eyes remaining shut, his hands still moving against the sheets, but rather slowly now.

            “You’re welcome,” Kit answered, his hands still resting on Ty’s forehead, over the cloth. They were still, but as he watched Ty’s hands swirl over the bedsheets, Kit began to replicate his movements, his fingers twisting and turning gently in the same way Ty’s would.

            The cloth was thin enough for Ty to feel the movement, and Kit noticed he could by the goosebumps that appeared on his arms, and the way his mouth half-opened at the soothing motion. His lips were chapped, dry, and slightly paler than the typical dark pink tint they’d usually carry. But, still, Kit couldn’t help but stare and wonder what they’d feel like against his.

            Now, he wondered, would they feel rough, or still, would the smoothness of him come through, blazing and burning Kit’s body until he felt alive in ways he wasn’t familiar with. Would the desire grow, or stay, or lessen? Would the ache for him drown or thrive? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ever find out.

            “Kit,” Ty said so gently, like a soft gaze of wind, or the softness of white dandelion flecks. “Don’t stop.”

            Kit didn’t plan on it, his fingers still replicating Ty’s, the pattern becoming programmed to his mind. He moved without thinking, he was far gentler now than he had ever been in his life.

            “Is it helping?” Kit asked, hopeful.

            “By the Angel, yes,” Ty assured, his voice silky, the guttural sound of his sickness gone, the smoothness of him returning.

            Suddenly, Ty’s eyes opened, the steel tint of them slightly less colourful than usual, but still piercing. Kit stopped at the abrupt way Ty opened his eyelids, his fingers still against the cloth on Ty’s forehead.

            With a gentle reluctance, Ty looked at him. Their eyes meeting, finally. Kit looked into them with a softness that he didn’t know existed within him, his body blazing and tingly and his heart beating quickly.

            “Is everything good?” Kit wondered aloud, his eyes never meeting Ty’s. Their gaze was long, and powerful, and it felt as though they were speaking without saying anything, as if they could read every bit of each other. As if-

            Ty broke contact quickly, his hands beginning to move in a fast movement once more, his body stiffening. “Uh yeah. I think I’ll have that soup now.”

 

*****

 

            It had been hours. Hours of Kit replacing cold cloths for Ty, hours of the two of them in Ty’s room, making simple conversation. Hours of Ty watching Kit’s movements, the way he moved his hair back, the way one side of his mouth curled upwards before the other when he smiled, the way his eyes brightened when they did.

            It was odd, to watch him, to observe him, and to find himself feeling odd because he did. Ty observed everyone, it was natural, a reflex, a habit, the way he was programmed. He’d look at how they moved, how they spoke, what they said, how they acted when they were happy or nervous or afraid. But looking at Kit was different. Every observation meant more than the other, every movement seemed to leave Ty curious, every word left him breathless, and every smile left him dazed.

            He wasn’t sure if he liked the feeling. He hated the unknown, the unlabeled. Ty hated what couldn’t be clarified. It all left him dizzy and it was like a cluster in his mind, one that couldn’t seem to ever unravel. But Kit left him another type of cluster, another type of dizziness. His thoughts weren’t clustered, they were just unfamiliar, and he was never dizzy, but rather it felt as though he were floating, as if gravity couldn’t reach the parts of his brain that had to do with Kit.

            “The others should be back soon,” Kit claimed. His hands skillfully dampened the cloth in the bowl at the desk by his bed, Ty watched as he squeezed it, water heavily falling from it.

            “Well, we can’t know that,” Ty claimed. His eyes fell on Kit’s face, the blonde boy’s eyes focused on his task, his eyebrows knotting together, his tongue slightly out of his mouth. “Every mission is different. It depends on how many demons there are, and what type of demon they are, too, of course. And, God, there are so many of them. They’re quite fascinating actually. Did you know that-” Ty stopped talking quickly, his fingers playing with each other nervously. What if Kit was becoming annoyed? He’d spent hours alone with Ty, and maybe he’s had enough of-

            Kit stopped what he was doing to look at Ty, his eyes awaiting and curious. “Why’d you stop?” Kit asked. “Chances are I _don’t_ know whatever you were going to tell me, and you can’t just leave me on a cliff hanger like that. That’s rude, c’mon dude, you know better than that.”

            Ty’s heart seemed to stop, but his hands quickened. “I’m-I’m sorry,” Ty stuttered. His teeth began to clench, and he wished for nothing more than to crawl under the covers with his headphones safely over his ears, the real-world millions of miles away. “I didn’t mean to-to be r-rude.”

            Kit looked at him with urgency now, his hands dropping the cloth back into the bowl. It made a loud splashing noise, and Ty flinched obviously. His lips closed together, and his hands were knotted together, firmly digging into each other, as if attempting to become one.

            “Oh, no, no,” Kit stuttered too, but Ty stared firmly at his sheets. “No, I was joking. It was just a joke.”

            Ty’s teeth clenched further. His heart began to beat again, but far too quickly for his body. He felt as if he were on fire. He just wanted to leave the room, the Institute, the city, the planet.

            “You don’t want to hear what I had to say?” His voice was fragile, and even Ty was shocked at out child-like it sounded on his lips.

            “NO!” Kit screamed, alarmed, and Ty felt himself shatter. _God, where was Livvy? He needed Livvy._ “Wait, no! Not no because I don’t want to listen to you, no because that isn’t what I mean!”

            Ty still shook. “I was joking about the rude thing. It wasn’t rude, I swear, that part was just a joke. But _I do_ want to hear what you have to say, that was real.”

            Ty looked to him, but not at him. They had made eye contact before, but it was almost too much, though Kit’s eyes were unlike any other eyes he had ever looked into.

“I always want to hear what you have to say,” Kit said slowly, gently, genuinely. He felt two soft hands on each side of his face. He didn’t move away, though almost every inch of him was begging him to. There was still that one part of him that told him not to, and it was loud, and booming, and it overpowered every part of him that disagreed. “I promise, Ty.”

The hands moved his face upwards, and their eyes met again. His body was burning, and not because he was sick. But he blamed it on that anyway.

“I’ll always want to hear what you have to say,” Kit assured him. Their eyes met now, and almost immediately, the both of them melted. “Don’t you believe me?” Kit’s voice was gentle and quiet, and it cracked hallway through his words, his thumbs drawing circles on each of Ty’s pink cheeks.

“I do,” Ty promised. “I believe you.” There it was, that one part of him that seemed to overpower every other part of him, loud and controlling and so prominent.

Kit smiled, and Ty smiled too.

Without another word, Kit’s hands slipped away from Ty’s face, and reached for the wet cloth. He placed it on Ty’s forehead, and Ty wished for him to do what he had done before, for the boy to draw patterns on his forehead, for Kit to soothe him away from the discomfort of his sickness.

Instead, Kit’s hands brushed away strands of Ty’s hair away from his forehead. Ty felt himself relax back into his bed once more at the touch. His mind was elsewhere now, away from this world and into one that consisted of just the two of them. There were no loud noises, no emotions that would cause Ty to stress, no unknowns. Because there was only one fact, one truth. It was just Ty and Kit, together, and that was enough. It was more than enough.

“Come in bed with me,” Ty said, almost surprising himself. His eyes darted open once more. “Unless, you know, you think it’s a bad idea. I don’t want you to get sick too.”

Kit shook his head aggressively. “No, I don’t think it’s a bad idea at all. I’m getting tired too, so, it’s a good idea actually,” Kit told him, his voice quick and nervous.

“Okay,” Ty said simply. He moved over to the left side of his bed, the side that was pressed against the wall, so that Kit could slide in from the other side. Kit opened the covers, and almost rolled into the bed. It dipped slightly at the sudden added weight, and Ty felt the heat of his body radiating.

Though he was sick, and tired, and his mind was spinning for so many reasons, he felt the most comfortable he had for the past few days.

Kit settled on his back, his hands against his stomach, his left arm making contact with Ty’s right one. Ty felt himself soften; his body sinking into the mattress, back into the quiet, harmless world that belonged to the two of them.

They stayed like that for minutes, slightly stiff, despite how comfortable they were. Eventually, the world slowed, and they became aware of each other. Ty’s body coughed freely, and Kit would place a hand on his shoulder. Kit would reach to adjust the cloth on Ty’s head, or draw an _Iratze_ on his arm. But neither of them left the bed. Neither of them dared.

 

****

 

“Kit,” Ty whispered in the darkness, the moonlight lit his face wonderfully, he looked ethereal, unbelievable beautiful, even sick and pale, dull eyes and chapped lips, he was surreal.

They were facing each other now, but not touching. The cloth stuck to Ty’s forehead due to the dampness of it, his dark hair hung wet, shiny in the light that pooled in from the window.

“Yeah?” Kit whispered back, gentle and smooth. They were inches apart, but Ty’s eyes rested downward, towards Kit’s chin. Kit looked at him anyway, absorbing the sight, the feeling, the unfamiliarity of it all so odd yet addicting. He wanted to feel this way, he wanted the unknown of it. He craved it, he craved what Ty made him feel.

“Thank you,” Ty uttered. “For taking care of me. I truly appreciate it.”

It sounded formal, but it felt natural to Kit. The words would sound odd if they belonged to anybody else, but this was Ty, this was _his_ Ty.

“You’re welcome,” Kit told him, every bit of him wanting to touch the wet strand of hair that rested over the cloth. “I just hope you feel better.”

“Yeah,” Ty began. “So do I.” Ty looked up at him then, their eyes meeting long enough for Kit to give in. His fingers pushed away the hair on his head, and Ty let him, his eyes locked with Kit’s.

“Do you feel better?” Kit’s hand still rested on Ty’s head, even though the strand of hair had been efficiently moved. Ty didn’t say anything of it.

“Sort of,” Ty admitted. “I’m still dizzy. But I think my fever went down.”

Kit’s hand moved to Ty’s cheek. He was warm still, but far better than he had been not too long ago. “Yeah, it definitely did.” Kit’s hand remained on Ty’s soft cheek, his thumb moving gently.

“Do you need anything?” Kit asked. Ty’s grey eyes still remained on Kit’s blue ones, the moonlight making them absolutely magical. His eyes resembled the stars that stood above the Institute, bright and burning and silver, and oh, so beautiful.

“I think you’ve done enough to help me,” Ty admitted. “You’ve been at my side since Julian left.” Kit smiled. He was right. The only time he’d left Ty was to get things _for him_.

Ty yawned suddenly, his eyelashes fluttering freely like the wings of a butterfly, though they were dark and long and thick. They brushed his cheekbones with a natural ease. He was so fascinating to watch. All the Shadowhunters were beautiful, Kit had come to realize. But Ty was more than that. Ty held beauty in the places they didn’t, in the places they couldn’t. Ty made him feel things no other Shadowhunter, or Downworlder, or human ever could. Ty was different. Not in the way that everyone thought he was. Ty was different because of how he made Kit feel. The unknown, identifiability of it all was so luring, so addicting, and somewhat chaotic and scary. But there was no other feeling like it. No other person brought that feeling to Kit. And Kit didn’t want anybody else to, for he wanted part of him to belong to Ty, and to Ty only.

“Try to sleep,” Kit murmured softly, his hands still resting upon his cheek. He brought himself closer to Ty, their noses were practically touching, their legs only inches apart, though he could feel Ty’s heat radiating on him. Goosebumps found their way up Kit’s arms, and a shiver sent itself down his spine. All Ty would have to do was lean forward slightly for them to make contact.

“I don’t wanna,” Ty whispered sleepily. He sounded slightly different when he was sick or tired, more vulnerable, less proper.

“You sure about that?” Kit asked him, almost giggling as he leaned slightly closer, their torsos almost touching now, too.

“Yes,” Ty assured. Both of their eyes were closed, but Kit could see him in his mind, long lashes tickling his cheekbones, a cloth against his head, his hair wet and soft and slightly curled at the tip because of the wetness. The moonlight turning him into nothing but a dream, the silver stars stuck beneath his eyelids.

It was so tempting now, all of Ty’s heat radiated against Kit, his breathing soft and light, his presence calming and coaxing. Everything about this moment was perfect. Ty’s breath was warm, and he breathed against Kit’s mouth as they were so close. His hair almost touched Kit’s forehead. But it was his hands, his hands that still moved, slowly, surely, against the covers over him that allowed Kit to give in.

Easily, Kit moved forward again, and so effortlessly, they collided. Their noses were pressed together, Kit’s bare forehead against the cloth that rested on Ty’s. Their legs tangled together quickly, Kit’s left leg stuck in between both of Ty’s, his right one resting over them. One of Kit’s arms wrapped itself around Ty’s waist as the other landed softly in his hair, gently twirling the dark straightness of it, the texture fine and somewhat thin within his fingers.

Ty’s breathing was calming, and it warmed every part of Kit. One of Ty’s arm rested over Ty’s back, and his hand still moved, drawing patterns over the boy’s shirt. Ty’s other hand rested on top of Kit’s hand. The one that was in Ty’s hair.

The two of them laid there, tangled within each other, the silence comforting the both of them, the moonlight their only companion.

And Kit knew now, more than anything, this was where he wanted to be. Ty was where he wanted to be. His feelings were still unfamiliar, and still confused. But they burned, and so Kit allowed them to, for if Ty’s eyes were the stars, then a part of him had to brighten too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Also yes Kit toally gets sick the next morning there is no denying lmao


End file.
